Chapter Text
Dark grey, as if just about to rain, but never quite getting to that point. That was the weather in Hanover on this day, and just as the almost-storm clouds exuded an air of gloom, so too did Franziska von Karma, who sat brooding beside an open window in the von Karma ancestral home, staring down at a blank sheet of paper and an old, ornate fountain pen.
She couldn’t stop thinking about her, and it was getting to be ridiculous. It’s not that she’d never thought about her before (especially two years ago, when she was central to a case Franziska had been prosecuting), but now it was the summer after the Hazakura Temple case (thus, several months since she’d seen her), and the prosecutor had become so crippled by her constant daydreaming that she hadn’t taken a case in several weeks. Not that Franziska was really in a position where she had to work; she’d inherited (and made) a considerable fortune and (unless something catastrophic occurred) was financially set for life, but she wanted to put a full career in; to follow the path of her father (in the professional sense, at least). However, she was never going to be able to do that if she didn’t deal with her constant, intrusive thoughts about her.
About Maya Fey.
So here she was; about to write a love letter to her.
Well, not a love letter. A ‘love letter’ would be an… inaccurate term.
It was a letter, anyhow. Franziska knew she would have to express her thoughts and feelings somehow, but after some failed and ineffective attempts at journal-writing, and the terrifying thought of voicing them in person, Franziska decided the best course of action would be a letter. It would be suitably personal; the recipient would indeed get the message, but it was distant; Franziska wouldn’t have to look into her steel blue eyes when she inevitably confessed her-
Franziska shook her head violently to rid herself of that image. Fearing more to come, she picked up her fountain pen and began to write. Finding Ms. Fey’s address was easy enough; she simply looked through the old case file for when she’d prosecuted against her. She wrote it down and hovered her hand above the page before stopping.
Her first obstacle was how to address the letter. She felt tempted to write something like “To the Fey whom it concerns”, or just “Maya Fey”, but those were the sorts of salutations for business correspondence, not for… whatever this was. After a moment of pondering, Franziska decided to meet it in the middle, and wrote “dear Maya Fey”. It wasn’t a salutation unknown to formal or informal correspondence, so it wouldn’t seem strange. Hopefully.
Franziska spent the next solid hour or so pouring her most common thoughts and feelings into the letter, struggling between being neither too clinical, nor too… sentimental. After the hour was up and the writing was done, Franziska signed the letter and placed it into its envelope. She was about to seal the letter and write the mailing address when she was suddenly hit with an impassible conflict.
Should she write a return address?
On one hand, it was customary in Franziska’s ordinary, formal correspondence (which was exclusively work-related) to leave a return address for courtesy’s sake, but on the other hand, this was not anything like that, and she was concerned that it would come across as though she was asking for a response, and was worried that would impact how Maya- no- Ms. Fey would feel about the letter. She gripped at the sides of her head for several, long minutes, debating back and forth in her mind about what to do.
Finally, feeling like she had no other choice with which to settle the matter, she did something she would normally not do; she picked up the phone to call someone. At least having someone’s second opinion would help guide her decision. She didn’t like the idea of doing this sort of thing for fear that her secrets would be revealed, but since she was getting nowhere on her own, she chose the only person she could really trust. The phone rang for only a couple moments before being picked up.
“Franziska? What can I do for you?” Came the voice of her brother; Miles Edgeworth.
“Is it customary to leave a return address in informal correspondence or is it considered rude?” Franziska immediately belted out like a cross examination question in court.
A moment of silence overtook the line before Edgeworth responded; “leave her your address, Franziska”.
“Wh- what do you mean ‘leave her your address’?!” Franziska spat out indignantly, her face burning with rage, as well as a bit of… something else.
“Franziska, there’s only one person I know of that you would write informal correspondence to. I don’t think you’re as difficult to read as you seem to think you are”.
“… I do not know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, come on. ‘Oh, have I told you about the case I prosecuted against Maya Fey. Oh, how I wish I hadn’t been so hard on the poor girl; she’s lost so much. Oh, it’s terrible what happened to Maya Fey at Hazakura Temple. Maya Fey, Maya Fey, will you come to my house today-”
“That’s enough!” Shouted Franziska, annoyed both by Edgeworth’s mocking tone and the cutting accuracy of his remarks. “All I wanted to know was if it was acceptable to write one’s return address on a letter, I most certainly did not want to be mocked in this manner!”
“Also,” Edgeworth picked up, as if he’d completely ignored her mini-tantrum; “go easy with the writing itself. If you’re writing it by hand as you typically do, I guarantee she will not be able to read it; your script is very old-fashioned and I doubt Maya Fey can even write cursive.”
Franziska huffed. It seemed she wasn’t going to be able to hide the truth from her frustratingly perceptive brother. “… very well. Anything else?”
“No, that should be all. Unless you have any other questions?”
“No. Goodbye.”
And with that, she hung up.
Franziska begrudgingly rewrote the whole letter painstakingly slowly, ensuring her writing was legible even to that foolish little spirit medium. In the process, her mind drifted off to thinking about the very same.
Her loud, omnipresent voice that always seemed to be shouting. Her indefatigable positive attitude. Her great big bright smile that would light up an entire room whenever she entered. Her immaculate raven hair that cascaded down her shoulders and back, and looked like your hand would just melt away in its softness if you were to-
Franziska bashed her head against the table in an effort to free herself of these foolish thoughts. They would never leave her alone, and it had made it impossible to work properly, hence her lack of recent cases.
Finally done with writing, she wrote the addresses, sealed the letter, and immediately set off for the post office. Before long, she’d reached it and sent it off, turning back to return home.
As she walked home, Franziska was gripped with dread. Would the letter arrive alright? What if someone intercepted it and her terrible truth was revealed to the world? Even if Ms. Fey got it intact, what would she think of it? What would she do with, and about, it? These thoughts plagued Franziska’s mind all the way home, all through the evening, and into bed and the following sleepless night. It seemed that writing the letter didn’t take away her intrusive thoughts, it merely changed them.
And her feelings were still very, very much there.
Maya Fey allowed her mind to drift from what she’d normally been thinking about during these past few months and onto her sister and mother. It had been hard to discover that she had actually met the latter without knowing it, only for her to be murdered, but she knew neither her mother nor her sister would ever really be gone, and with the support of Peal, Nick, Larry, Gumshoe, and Mr. Edgeworth, she had both physically and mentally recovered well, so she was able to get herself back on track, which meant going back to thinking about other things.
Other things being a certain silver-blue-haired prosecutor and absolutely nothing else.
As she continued with her work (tending to some flowers they’d planted that year for the first time), she thought about that particular woman. Never in a million years would she have guessed that the woman who- for their first encounter- was hellbent on having her put to death for a crime she didn’t commit, would become the object of her deepest affections. Perhaps there was some truth in the saying ‘opposites attract’, as the two seemed to have polar opposite characters. Where Maya was a happy-go-lucky, short little goofball, Franziska was confident, svelte, and imposing. Everywhere she went, all eyes were on her, and it was not hard to imagine why.
Maya was still floored that her hair was naturally that colour. She’d asked her once offhandedly and was stunned when she received the matter-of-fact reply that she was born with it. Not that Maya didn’t like it, it was absolutely stunning, after all, but it was still crazy to think about. To think about pretty much all the time.
“Mystic Maya!” Maya’s daydreaming was interrupted by a shout by Pearl, who was making her way over to her. She appeared to be holding a letter, which she promptly handed to Maya. “I think this is for you,” she said, sounding a little unsure of herself.
“You think it’s for me?” Maya began in a joking tone of voice. “Why aren’t you sure?”
“Well… I, uh, can’t read the writing. It’s... very distorted,” Pearl explained.
“Well, let me take a look.
Sure enough, the writing was cursive, which would explain why Pearl had a rough time with it (even Maya wasn’t really all that good at reading it).
“Yep, this is for me-”
Her voice trailed off as she read the return address.
It was from the one and only Franziska von Karma.
Maya’s heart skipped a beat. A letter from Franziska? Maya couldn’t tell whether to be overjoyed or terrified, considering Franziska seemed like the kind of person to only write for business (hopefully this wasn’t anything to do with a case she was somehow involved in), but the idea that it was actually a personal letter was just oh-so-tantalising.
“Thank you for bringing this to me, Pearly!” Maya regained her composure to say to her cousin.
“No problem, Mystic Maya! Do you need anything else?” Pearl was always so helpful and upbeat, it was adorable.
“Nope, but thank you!”
“Okay, come get me if you need me!” And with that, Pearl headed off. Now, Maya could read her letter.
She got out of the sun and sat down in the side room by the winding way, her heart a-beating with excitement. Turning the letter over to open it, she was both surprised and impressed to see the von Karma familial coat of arms, used to seal the letter in blue wax. Deciding she wanted to keep it as a keepsake, she cut the paper around it and put it on a nearby chest. With that, she pulled out the letter and began to read it. It, too, was written in the same cursive, and it was actually very beautiful handwriting. It was a wee bit difficult to read at times, but using neighboring words and letters for reference, it wasn’t hard to piece together the sentences when she had trouble.
Dear Maya Fey,
I am writing this letter to you because I fear that if I do not express the following, I will go completely mad.
Maya blinked. That could mean a whole lot of things, but certainly seemed like the kind of way that Franziska would start a letter. Calming her pounding heart with a deep breath, she continued reading.
Your hair is frustratingly distracting; I find myself thinking about it constantly. I do not know what in the devil you put in it to make it look so soft, and I haven’t a clue how hair so black can be so radiant at the same time. It puzzles me deeply.
Your smile is also very distracting. It is entirely impossible to ignore whenever you do it, which is often. It is also far more pleasant than it has any right to be, and the thought of it makes it hard to focus.
In fact, everything about you is distracting. I have not worked a case in weeks because every single time I am in the process of doing something productive, my treacherous mind defaults to thinking about your accursed hair, or your smile, or your laugh, or your voice, or your eyes, and I am thus incapable of proceeding. It would not be so bad if my dreadful brain did not seem to enjoy it so much, for whatever foolish reason.
There. I have said what I had to say. I hope this letter finds you well and I hope the meaning of it is not misinterpreted. If it is, I apologise.
Yours truly,
Franziska von Karma
She actually didn’t put anything in her hair, but the fact that Franziska thought she did was just… wow.
Maya couldn’t help but giggle happily when she finished. Somehow, the Franziskesque (was that a word? She decided it was) way in which the letter was written just made it all the more endearing, and reading between the lines, it was very clear what the real meaning behind the words were (even if Franziska herself didn’t know it).
And the thought made Maya’s heart flutter with elation.
But how to reply?
You can’t get a delightful letter like that and just say “gee, thanks a lot”, but what was she going to do? She wasn’t nearly as skilled in the art of writing as Franziska was, so writing a letter back was pretty well out of the question, but she couldn’t think of anything else besides that.
However, as she turned the envelope over to look back at the address, an idea came, and it quickly went from being a possibility to being what she was absolutely going to do no matter what, come hell or high water.
“Pearly! Come here, quick!” Shouted Maya, putting the letter back in the envelope and slipping it into her pocket. As Pearl made her way over, Maya glanced down at the gardening she’d been doing, and a second idea popped into her head.
Before long, the young girl had done as she was told, and entered the room with a “yes, Mystic Maya?”
“Do you think you can keep an eye on the manor for a few days? It’s a big responsibility, but I trust you. If you have any problems, you have Nick’s number; I'm sure he’d be happy to come down and help you if you ever need it.”
Pearl nodded. “Of course! But why are you leaving?” Pearl’s voice shifted from excited to worried.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not in trouble or anything. Not this time, anyway,” Maya chuckled. “I’m just going to visit a friend.”
“Oh, okay!” Pearl’s usual demeanour returned with that reassurance. “Do I know them?”
Maya thought for a moment before she responded. “I don’t think you do. She’s from a different country.” If all went well, she would explain later. She didn’t want Pearl to worry (or get mad) about her going to see her former prosecutor.
“Oh, okay,” Pearl said. “I hope you enjoy yourself!”
“Thanks, Pearl!” Replied Maya as she made her way to the door.
But before she got all the way through, Pearl called after her; “Where are you going?”
Maya turned around and smiled. “I’m going to Hanover!”